


Baking with Desire

by AnnaTheHank



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Baking, FallTCHEvent, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), They're just so in love, and Crowley can't keep his hands to himself, but who can blame him, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26434180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaTheHank/pseuds/AnnaTheHank
Summary: Somethings never change, like Aziraphale humming when he's happy, and Crowley unable to go five seconds without touching his husband.Baking is always a process.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 92





	Baking with Desire

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short lil cute fluff for the tch fall event <3 <3
> 
> Thank you all for stopping by to read! I hope you enjoy <3

  
(https://dukeofnone.tumblr.com/post/631086660576215040/hello-guys-i-did-a-collab-with-annathehank-for-an)  
AMAZING art by Duke of None!

Aziraphale hummed a lot more often than Crowley remembered. Granted, they hadn’t spent many periods of extended time together, but he didn’t remember much humming when they did. But Aziraphale did hum. He hummed even when there wasn’t music playing. He hummed when he thought he was alone and when he wasn’t. And Crowley was never one to be into the whole ‘angelic chorus’, but Aziraphale’s voice was a sweet tone that drew him closer like a moth to a flame.

“What’s that one?” Crowley asked, leaning against the door frame to the kitchen, watching as Aziraphale shuffled about. 

Aziraphale paused, the lovely melody of his hum disappearing, leaving a void in the air. He looked over his shoulder, smile widening as he saw Crowley. There was a little patch of something white on his cheek. “Oh, nothing specific. Just, something that popped into my head.”

Crowley smirked and sauntered over. He reached out, rubbing the white away from Aziraphale’s face. “Thought you weren’t going to try that again.”

“What?” Aziraphale looked at Crowley’s thumb and then chuckled. “Oh, dear, no. That’s flour.”

“Uh-huh. Sure it is.”

“Really. See?” Aziraphale turned and gestured to the counter. A lump of dough sat there, waiting to be rolled out, and more flour covered the work area. 

“Huh.” Crowley leaned up against the counter, studying the dough. “Any particular reason there’s flour on your face?”

“Well, I imagine it was on my hand, and then I wiped my face.”

Crowley laughed and turned his lean to Aziraphale’s side. “ _What I meant was_ , what ya makin’, Angel?”

“Oh! I’m baking a pie.” Aziraphale smiled and reached out to knead at the dough a bit. 

“Why?”

“Well, because it’s fun! And it’s quite relaxing, you know.” He bumped his hip against Crowley’s. “You ought to give it a try.”

“Aziraphale, please. I am the master of relaxing. Look, see, relaaaaxing.” Crowley slid over to the breakfast table, lowering himself until he was practically lying on one of the chairs. 

Aziraphale frowned at him. “That...doesn’t look very comfortable dear.”

“Just give it a minute,” Crowley told him.

Aziraphale shrugged and turned back around, resuming his work on the dough. And soon he was humming again. And that was all the relaxation in the world that Crowley needed. And the little shake in Aziraphale's hips and wiggle of his shoulders as he worked sure helped. 

“Who needs a t.v. with entertainment like this?” Crowley asked, crossing his arms behind his head. 

Aziraphale glanced back at him, blushing a bit. “Oh, shush.”

He could be quiet. He could be very quiet indeed. Crowley bounced to his feet and walked back up to Aziraphale, wrapping his arms around his waist. He didn’t need words to show Aziraphale how he felt. 

“Really, dear. I am trying to bake here.” Aziraphale laughed and didn’t quite try to shake him off. 

“Here, I’ll help.” Crowley reached around Aziraphale, placing his hands over his as their fingers worked over the dough. It was nearly ready to be rolled out, but they decided to risk overworking it. After all, spending years being so near but unable to touch meant enjoying every moment they could now. 

Crowley sighed a satisfied note as he felt the round length of Aziraphale’s fingers intermix with his own. The first time he had held Aziraphale’s hand was, to this day, the happiest moment in his life. But this moment here? Feeling Aziraphale pressed against him, holding him close and working together to make something? It was making a good run for second. 

“Thank you, dear.” Aziraphale turned and kissed Crowley’s cheek, leaving a lovely little burning sensation where they touched. “I do think it’s ready to be rolled now.”

“Go forth and roll,” Crowley said. He could find other ways to entertain himself. In fact, he could do so without even moving.

Aziraphale started to laugh as Crowley pressed kisses to his jaw, moving them lower towards his neck. “I can’t possibly bake with you doing that, my dear.” He shrugged his shoulder, effectively pushing Crowley and his kisses away. “Let me finish and I promise you can do whatever you want with me while it’s cooking.”

“Whatever I want, you say?” Crowley pulled them closer, whispering in Aziraphale’s ear. 

Aziraphale chuckled and bumped Crowley away. “Yes, _after_ I’m done.”

Crowley frowned, leaning forward a bit so Aziraphale could see the look on his face. It didn’t seem to phase him; one of the downsides of knowing someone for six-thousand years. “Alright, fine. Let me help then. Sooner we get it done, the better.”

“Always in such a rush,” Aziraphale chided. 

“Patience:virtue.” Crowley pointed to himself. “Demon.”

Aziraphale shook his head and rubbed some flour on the rolling pin. “Why don’t you wash the blueberries for me?”

Crowley nodded and turned to the sink. He had started growing some berry bushes out back, at Aziraphale’s request, about a year ago. First, Aziraphale had just wanted to spend time gardening together, another one of his activities meant to be relaxing that was actually just work. But Crowley loved spending any time with Aziraphale, and he looked adorable in his overalls and straw hat. 

Then Aziraphale had started his whole cooking/baking kick, and insisted that he use as many ingredients grown in their own garden as he could. 

“Nothing better than knowing you’ve grown these for me,” he would say. And how could Crowley ever say no to that?

Crowley turned the faucet on and grabbed the basket of berries sitting on the counter. He eyed the bottle of soap in the corner, and chuckled. If he wasn’t sure Aziraphale would give him the cold shoulder, he would properly ‘wash’ the berries. 

“What’s so funny over there?” Aziraphale asked. He had molded the dough to the tin pan, and was filling it up with beans. 

“I thought you were making a berry pie,” Crowley said, choosing not to tell Aziraphale about his soapy thoughts. “What’s with the beans?”

“They keep the dough in place as it bakes,” Aziraphale explained. He opened the oven and slid the pan in. 

Crowley furrowed his eyebrows down at the berries in his hand. “Aren’t these supposed to be in there?”

“After. The crust has to bake a little first.”

“What. So, we have to wait, before we can wait?”

“Really, dear. It won’t be that long.” Aziraphale grabbed the timer and twisted it around. The device ticked an annoying tone that seemed to elongate over time. “And while that’s working, we can prepare the filling.”

“More and more preparing,” Crowley complained. Aziraphale held out a hand and Crowley reached up, grabbing a small pot to give him. “Why can’t we just snap our fingers and be done with it already?” He blinked. “You know, we could, actually?”

“No.” Aziraphale reached out to push down Crowley’s already raised hand. “We are going to wait, and be patient, and enjoy the fruits of our labor.”

Crowley groaned, rolling his head back for emphasis. 

“Oh, hush,” Aziraphale said. He took the berries from Crowley and poured them into the pot, setting a low heat. “Hand me the sugar, would you?”

Crowley thought about passing over the salt, but if they were to labor with fruit, he did want to enjoy it in the end. And he wanted Aziraphale to enjoy it as well. 

So Crowley resumed his post behind Aziraphale, fingers pulsating against his hips, reminiscent of dough kneading. Aziraphale chuckled at each tickle, trying not-very-heartedly to push Crowley away. Crowley ticked away the minutes by kissing every inch of visible skin Aziraphale had (which, decidedly, wasn’t a lot).

“There,” Aziraphale declared as the timer rang out. He turned off the stove and practically dragged Crowley with him to the oven. 

“You’re adorable,” Crowley mumbled. He watched Aziraphale slip on his oven mitts, styled in his patented tartan pattern.

“It takes one adorable person to know another,” Aziraphale declared. He turned to give Crowley a quick peck on the cheek before removing the pie crust from the oven. 

“How much longer?” Crowley asked, nipping gently at Aziraphale’s ear. 

“Almost done.” Aziraphale shook his head with a tsk. “Honestly.” 

Crowley smiled, waiting very patiently as Aziraphale poured the filling in and laid the remaining dough pieces on top in a lovely lattice pattern. 

Aziraphale slipped the pie back in the oven and turned on the timer. “ _Now_ you may continue.”

Crowley smiled and wrapped Aziraphale up in a deep kiss. “How much time?” he asked. Aziraphale faced the timer to him. 

A little burnt pie never hurt anyone.


End file.
